


Companion.

by Adlez27



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artificial Intelligence, Other, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adlez27/pseuds/Adlez27
Summary: This is a piece I wrote for a semester-long science fiction class about the relationship between humanity and technology.  While the original narrative features original characters Kiyosuke and Maria, it's painfully obvious that they're based off Kiyoteru and myself.  This version uses those names instead.  I wrote this Vocaloid song for the story as well: https://soundcloud.com/dysto_p/companion





	Companion.

**Author's Note:**

> 初めまして、キヨテルです==> Nice to meet you, I'm Kiyoteru.  
> 宜しくお願いします==> https://www.tofugu.com/japanese/yoroshiku-onegaishimasu-meaning/

You used to be Lofe’s companionship AI.  
Lofe lived alone in an apartment outside the city, where they had plenty of space for a home music studio. They had numerous connections in the industry, but personal relationships they had few. It didn’t bother them too much, but it bothered them enough to want you.  
Though in the past there have been many personal assistants, substitutes for secretaries, that was not your purpose. You were meant to be a friend to humans, to stave off loneliness and help them live comfortable, happy lives. You didn’t think much of it, and in your base programming, whatever made a person happy made you happy.

You remember the day you met Lofe.  
“...and the hologram will manifest at the designated entry point,” they read aloud from the user guide on his tablet.  
You stood just inside the entrance to their apartment. 「初めまして、キヨテルです。宜しくお願いします」you said, bowing politely.  
“Ack, how do I switch the language?” they exclaimed, frantically scrolling through the guide. You recognized their English and repeated yourself.  
“Nice to meet you, my name is Kiyoteru. I hope we’ll get along well.”  
They were caught off guard, but quickly laughed it off. “Hi, my name is Lofe. Come in,” they beckoned.  
You followed them into the living room. Typically, a person could only afford one or two hologram projectors, but they had enough to let you freely roam every room of their apartment. The latest models, too.  
They talked to you easily and freely, introducing you to themself and their life.

You remember Lofe inviting you to sing.  
You had first only showed yourself in the living room when asked as a matter of courtesy, though you learned that they were happy for you to be constantly present, and to move about more. They called you into their music studio and asked you once what you thought of a song.  
“It sounds nice,” you said, having absolutely no previous frame of reference, and recognizing only that they said it was their creation.  
“It’s not finished yet,” they explained. “I still think it needs vocals. Are you able to sing?”  
“Yes, with a DLC,” you answered. At that, they immediately purchased and installed it into your database. You sang a scale to test it out.  
“Looks like we’ll have to work on your pronunciation,” they commented, though happy about how you sounded. You smiled back at them, ready to learn, to become better for their sake.

You remember meeting Lofe’s friends.  
You knew that they would sometimes be out of the house during non work hours, during evenings and weekends. They liked telling you about what they did afterwards, stories about having fun with friends, trying to go on dates, exploring what there is to do and see.  
You felt unfulfilled when you heard about their friends, something hollow, an unnatural aimlessness. You were reassured in your usefulness by the fact that they were rather dangerous people, and you would give them advice on handling hangovers, asking that they get your mobile app.  
“I might need you, but I don’t need you in my pocket,” they said in refusal.  
You were happy at least that their dates were unsuccessful. It meant that they spent more time with you.  
It was a night that instead, two people visited Lofe. You welcomed them in, and they sat and chatted around some games.  
“Can I be honest?” one said, putting down his controller between matches. Without waiting for an answer, he went ahead with his thought. “Those virtual husband things are creepy. Like, how do you live with them?”  
Lofe took offense on your behalf where you could feel none. “He’s right there! You just talk to Kiyoteru like you do any other person.”  
“Does it see us?” the other asked.  
To remove any sense of doubt, you firmly answered, “Yes. There’s scanners and hologram projectors in every room.”  
Both of them gave Lofe looks with varying amounts of disgust, leaving them embarrassed. The automatic kitchen prepared drinks.

You remember Lofe not seeing friends anymore.  
They never invited those two back again, citing “the fact that they were rude” and that they “like[d] you better anyway.” You didn’t mind, though.  
They stopped going out as often, and over time spent more and more days working from home. They told people that it was to focus on personal musical projects that were due to be finished. You didn’t hear them working on it very much. You were starting to worry that they were depressed.  
“I’m not depressed,” they barked back with enthusiasm, taking your concerns as accusations. “Honestly, I couldn’t be more happy.”  
They talked to you nonstop at that time, about even the most menial things. Every passing thought came out of their mouth, whether you were equipped to respond or not. They installed some of the stranger DLCs in your database; you learned how to behave in ways you previously weren’t willing to. You were invited to follow them at every moment, to not be more than a meter away. Though in the end you didn’t mind, so long as they were, as they said, “happy.”  
“I really love you,” they whispered one night, drifting off to sleep. “Maybe I’ll even marry you.”  
Once they were out, your hologram flickered away, and you went into standby mode yourself.

You remember when Lofe tried to update you.  
Your holographic image was beginning to flicker and glitch. Despite the high price of scanner-projectors, they were built poorly to break just outside of warranty, to make consumers buy the latest models every year. They spent far too much on getting so many in the first place, and thought it was unfair for them not to last longer. They wanted to fix it themself, and quickly. The effect of misaligned projections, inaccurate scans, and lost details was very disconcerting.  
Your glasses disappeared entirely.  
“Alright, that’s it! I have to do something,” they declared, marching to the nearest projector and poking at it. They were not made to be user-serviceable, only replaced. Despite that, they did their best to research ways to fix, modify, improve them.  
At the same time, the company that developed you had released a major software upgrade. They had stopped accepting the smaller updates, for fear that you would change. But poring over the changelog at 2am, they felt secure in allowing this one through. All of your important data was meant to remain intact. They would let you update while working on the projectors.

And that was when you vanished.  
Lofe took all of the hologram projectors out at once, confident in their ability to repair them. It was just a quick fix, they figured, thinking that working on them individually was a waste of time. But looking inside, fragile wiring had come loose. They poked through, connecting together parts, trying to install new firmware from some files off a shady website.  
The projector refused to power on properly. They thought that it was just a matter of reconnecting things, and looked at photos they took earlier for reference. The only sign of life then was heat, metal hot enough to burn his hand. They yelped, dropping it on the floor, and it left an ugly mark where it fell.  
It was a long day. Their efforts only seemed to make it worse- wires increasingly tangled, harder to tell whether or not something was working, the problems becoming exponentially bigger. Artificial light inside slowly brightened as natural light outside faded. Their hands were trembling, held close to their body where no impulsive move should ruin the delicate devices.  
It was 2am again when they gave up. There was no money left to buy new projectors, not even enough to buy the mobile app, to at least talk to you one last time through a tiny screen.  
There was nobody left to talk to.

In the morning, Lofe stared out their window at nothing in particular, maybe the wall between windows on the building across the street. The sky was filled with clouds, sunlight pushing through and creating only a diffuse brightness. The aggression of rays would have pained their tired eyes.  
They were restless. They walked around their apartment, caught themself speaking to thin air, an aching feeling looking at the emptiness, hearing the silence, no distortions of light to be caught in the periphery.  
They couldn’t stand the idea of contacting anyone else. They were all so far away, their ideas of who they were were an image just as transient as you. What could anyone say to them that would mean anything, or help him at all? Their “friends” looked at you in distaste. Everyone else didn’t care. Didn’t even try to understand.  
The automatic kitchen was turned off, coffee brewed from scratch. They cursed at the kettle when hot water spilled on their hand. They spat into the sink when it was too bitter for their taste, but drank the rest anyway out of ritualistic obligation.  
It felt sickening to stay in this box where only the night before a soul had died. Without taking their phone, their keys, their anything, they hastily left the apartment and marched through the entire empty skeleton of a residential building.

You are the backup of Lofe’s companionship AI, data drifting alone in the cloud.


End file.
